


Broken Cars and Blind Dates

by thedemonkingawakes



Series: Avengers Meet-Cute AUs [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 11:03:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4562097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedemonkingawakes/pseuds/thedemonkingawakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love was never a priority for Natasha, and she certainly never expected to find it in her auto shop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Cars and Blind Dates

“Barton, leave the shirt sleeves rolled up. You’re an Olympic archer for god’s sake.” Carol leaned against Clint’s dresser. “You do know that girls like it when guys show off their muscles, right?” She chuckled. “At least, most girls do.”

“Danvers,” Barton complained as he reluctantly rolled his sleeves back up. “why can’t you be content playing matchmaker for Jess and Luke? Why do you have to constantly set me up on blind dates?”

Carol smirked. “Because it annoys you. Besides, you need more friends.”

“I have friends.”

“Female friends.”

Clint sighed long-sufferingly. “So who is my ‘date,’ again?”

“She’s a friend of James.” Clint crossed his arms. “She’s Russian; old family, old money. From what James has said, she’s pretty intelligent.” Carol smiled. “Get going, Barton, or you’re going to be late.”

Clint groaned, but obligingly grabbed his coat. “What are you doing while I’m on another horrible blind date?”

Carol grinned. “I have another match-making obligation in Hell’s Kitchen.”

Clint shook his head as he walked out into the cool Brooklyn night.

~*~*~

“Nat,” Bucky cried in exasperation. “your date is in twenty minutes. Why aren’t you dressed?”

Natasha looked up from the car she was working on. Smears of grease and oil ran along her face and arms. Dark streaks of oil coated her hair, making it hang in limp waves around her face. “I was busy.” She snapped. “Unlike you, my day doesn’t end at five thirty.”

Bucky smirked. “Benefits of working in the private sector. Stark pays well and we work reasonable hours. I never understood why you didn’t join us.”

“Because I’m done with security. I had my fill of it in Russia, thank you very much.” Natasha slid back under the car. “Hand me a wrench.”

“Nuh-uh.” Bucky crouched down and pulled Natasha out from under the car. “You have a date. Go shower. I’ll pick out something for you to wear.”

“James-”

“No arguments.” He grinned. “Go.”

Natasha stood up and headed for the stairs that lead to her apartment, tossing a Russian curse over her shoulder at Bucky as she left.

~*~*~

Half an hour passed, then an hour. Clint sat at his table, waiting for his date to show. The restaurant had slowly emptied as he waited. A red haired woman had come in about fifteen minutes after him, and for a moment, Clint had thought that was who he was supposed to meet, but when she ordered a drink at the bar, her voice held no traces of a Russian accent. And the drink the bartender had set in front of her was a cheap beer. It didn’t exactly scream old money.

Clint sighed and dropped his head down to rest on his forearms. He’d give his ‘date’ another five minutes and then he was leaving. Clint watched idly as the red haired woman left, tossing a crumpled bill on the bar. He was tired of Carol setting him up on blind dates. She would just have to be content with playing matchmaker for Jessica and Luke.

Clint stood up. He paid for the coffee he had ordered while he waited, adding a generous tip for the waiter, and left. His battered old truck was sitting at the back of the parking lot. Clint climbed in. The engine turned over several times before it finally caught and the truck roared to life.

~*~*~

Natasha pulled off the heels Bucky had picked out for her and tossed them onto the steps. She was about to start working on the car Tony Stark had dropped off earlier in the day when she heard a car sputter and die. Natasha walked outside. Colorful cursing met her ears. In the growing darkness, she could see the silhouette of a man standing next to what seemed to be the most battered truck she had ever seen.

“Do you need some help?” She called, pulling on a pair of worn sandals.

The man turned around, his curses trailing off into silence. “Uh,” He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “well, my truck just died, and I’m not really anywhere near my house. Could I use your phone, if it’s not too much trouble?”

Natasha smiled as she approached him. “I can do you one better. Help me push your truck into my garage and I’ll see if I can figure out what’s wrong with it.” She gestured to the little auto shop down the street. “I run Rushman Auto Repairs.”

“Ummm, I don’t want ruin your night. You look like you’re about to go out.”

Natasha shook her head. “Just getting back, actually.” She smiled. “C’mon.” Natasha put her hands on her hips, assessing him. “Unless you want to be out here all night.”

He grinned then, and Natasha couldn’t keep a smirk from her face. “Not at all. But aren’t you going to get your dress all dirty pushing my truck?”

Natasha shrugged. “Probably.” She sighed. “James’ll kill me if ruin another dress. It’ll just take me two seconds to change.”

“Take your time.” The man replied, leaning up against his truck.

Natasha hurried back to the garage. She took the steps two at a time, nearly tripping over her discarded heels in her haste. Once she was in her bedroom, Natasha pulled a tank top and a pair of short shorts from her drawer. The night was warm enough that she didn’t even need a jacket. Natasha glanced out the window. The man was still leaning against his truck, twirling what appeared to be an arrow around in his hands. Despite that, he didn’t seem particularly threatening.

The man looked up as Natasha walked back out to the truck. “You’re right. That was fast.” He reached through the open window on his truck and set the arrow down on the back seat.

“What’s with the arrow?” Natasha asked as she moved around to the back of the truck. “Are you a hunter?”

The man shook his head. “Archer. ‘S just a hobby though.” He joined Natasha behind the truck. “Ready?”

Natasha nodded. Together, they pushed the car up the street and into Natasha’s auto shop. She grabbed her toolbox from where it rested on the bench and propped open the hood of the truck. The man stood awkwardly off to the side, tucking one hand into his pocket. “Need a hand? The rest of your staff seems to have gone home for the night.”

Natasha laughed. “What staff? It’s just me here. Pass me a wrench?”

The man reached over and dug a wrench out of the toolbox. He passed it to Natasha. She took it from him and ducked back under the hood of the truck.

“You know, I don’t think we’ve actually been introduced.” The man sounded like he was grinning. “I’m Clint.”

“Natasha. It’s nice to meet you.” Natasha replied, not looking up from her work.

“So,” Clint leaned against the wall, shoving his sleeves further up his arms. He had nice arms, Natasha couldn’t help but notice. “if you don’t mind me asking, what were you doing all dressed up?”

“A friend of mine set me up on a blind date. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, for me, my date stood me up.” Natasha replied, holding out one hand. “Screwdriver?”

Clint handed her a screwdriver and chuckled. “That sucks. The same thing happened to me. My friend Carol takes pleasure in playing matchmaker for all her friends.”

Natasha ducked out from under the hood of the car. She rested one arm on the windshield, assessing Clint coolly. Clint hummed under his breath, pulling a quarter out of his pocket and rolling it absently across his knuckles.

“This truck is a piece of shit. You’d be better off just getting rid of it.”

Clint shook his head. “Can you fix it?”

“I can.” Natasha sighed. “Look, leave it with me for a couple days. I’ll fix it up as best I can and give you a call when it’s done.” She picked her way around the scrap parts and tools on the floor and pulled a sheet of paper out from behind the counter. “Here, write down your name and number.”

Clint tucked the quarter back into his pocket and took a pen from the cup on the counter.

“So,” Natasha started, watching Clint write his name and number in sloppy script. “what do you do for a living?”

Clint shrugged. “I’m an athlete. It’s the off season right now, though. My friend Carol got me a job working security over the summer.” He grinned.

Natasha couldn’t help but grin back. “James works in security too. He’s been trying to convince me to apply for a job in the field for years.” She picked up a wrench and stepped into the second garage. “There’s a phone behind the counter. You can call a cab, if you need to.” She lay down on the creeper and rolled under Stark’s car. A few minutes later, she heard Clint’s footsteps as he walked into the garage.

“Cool car. Is it yours?”

Natasha chuckled. “Like I could afford something like this. It’s one of Tony Stark’s. James convinced him to bring it here for a tune up.” The cab pulled up in front of Rushman Auto Repair. Natasha heard Clint start to leave.

“Thanks for the help. I’ll see you in a few days.” Clint said.

Natasha stuck a hand out from under the car and waved. After a moment, she heard Clint’s footsteps on the floor as he left.

That night, as Natasha was drifting off to sleep, Clint’s smile danced behind her closed eyelids. It was a pleasant smile, genuine and full of warmth. A small smile touched Natasha’s lips as sleep overtook her.

~*~*~

Carol let herself in without knocking. Clint was sprawled on the couch watching Dog Cop reruns. He looked up as Carol sat down beside him.

“How was your date?” She asked, reaching over and taking a handful of popcorn from Clint’s bowl.

Clint shrugged and swatted her hand away. “She didn’t show. I waited around for an hour or so. And then my truck crapped out on the way home.”

“I did wonder when it wasn’t out front.” Carol replied. “Did you get rid of it?”

Clint shook his head. “Not a chance. I met a mechanic. She’s fixing up the truck for me. How’re Jess and Luke?”

“Same as usual. Completely oblivious. Tell me more about this mechanic.”

~*~*~

“James, you need to stop setting me up on blind dates. I have better things to do with my time than wait around at fancy restaurants in uncomfortable clothes for people who don’t show up.” Natasha took a beer from Bucky and twisted off the top.

Bucky twisted his own top off and frowned. “You actually went? Carol told me that her friend said you didn’t show.”

“Her friend is lying. I went. No one else came.” Natasha said. “When is Stark picking up his car? It’s taking up too much space in my garage, and it’s been fixed for nearly a week.”

Bucky shrugged. He leaned back and put his feet on the coffee table. Natasha sighed and tossed him the remote before she disappeared back into the garage. “Don’t forget to wash the dishes.”

Bucky groaned and turned the volume on the TV up. Natasha sighed. She tossed a rag at his head and ducked out of the room before Bucky could retaliate. Clint’s truck was sitting in the garage, the hood held up by two wooden sticks. Natasha chuckled. Challenges were good. They kept her occupied, and kept her from thinking about archers or smiles or witty banter. Clint’s truck was more than a challenge though; it was an impossible task. Half the cab seemed to be held together by duct tape and glue, and the entire thing was ready to fall apart. Anything she did would be temporary at best.

Natasha reached into the truck and turned the key. The engine turned over a few times before it finally caught. Natasha grinned. She shut the hood of the car and slid into the driver’s seat. The truck ran surprisingly smoothly for as old as it was. She drove it around the block a couple of times, listening for any sounds that were out of place. Once she had parked Clint’s truck in the garage again, she called him. His answering machine answered, spouting a generic line about leaving a message. For some reason, that disappointed her. Quickly, she shook her head, dispelling the thought.

“Clint, it’s Natasha, from Rushman Auto Repairs. Your truck is fixed. You can come pick it up whenever is convenient. I’ll be here.”

Natasha set the phone down in the cradle. Bucky stuck his head out the open doorway.

“Trouble?”

“Only if you didn’t wash your dishes.” Natasha replied, leaning against the counter. “I’m not your housekeeper, Barnes, and you’re a guest in my house.”

Bucky smirked. “They’re washed and dried.” He padded down the steps into Natasha’s garage. “Will you please be my plus one to Stark’s party?”

“Why? Are you trying to set me up again?”

Bucky shook his head. “Alright, Stark told me not to say anything, but he wants to talk to you.”

“About what?” Natasha asked suspiciously, picking up a rag and wiping some of the grease off her hands.

“Consulting. A job. I don’t know. Stark didn’t tell me. He just said I should convince you to come to the party.” Bucky grinned. “I’m sure he’ll make it worth your while.”

Natasha sighed as she tossed her rag down on the counter. “Fine.”

“Good.” Bucky’s grin widened. “And look the part, okay?”

“What?” Natasha smirked. “A mechanic?”

“A Russian heiress.” Bucky replied. “I’ll pick you up at seven.” He strode out the open garage door before Natasha had a chance to reply.

Natasha frowned at Bucky’s retreating form. She tossed her rag aside and walked up the steps into her little apartment. Twenty minutes later, Natasha stood in front of her bathroom mirror, a thick robe wrapped around herself. Her skin had been scrubbed until it nearly glowed, for once free of dirt and grease. Her hair fell in wet waves, just brushing the tops of her shoulders. Natasha stared at the dress that hung from the bathroom door. It was a deep, emerald green with an open back. A golden snake wound its way back up the center of the back, connected at either shoulder by a shimmering gold thread.

Natasha sighed. She slid the dress off its hanger and pulled it on. The dress settled around her, hugging her curves and making her emerald eyes stand out. The clock on the bathroom wall read 5:30. Natasha stalked into her bedroom, pacing back and forth across the small room. The worn carpet was soft under her bare feet. After a few minutes, Natasha padded into living room. She sat down on the couch, spreading the skirt of her dress out so it wouldn’t wrinkle, and tucked her feet up, pressing them against the arm of the couch. She flipped the TV on, surfing the channels for a while until she found some cheesy movie playing.

The door to Natasha’s apartment swung open at twenty minutes to seven. Natasha looked up, half asleep. Bucky walked in, dressed in a sharp navy suit. When he saw Natasha sitting on the couch in her fancy dress, Bucky chuckled.

“I didn’t expect you to actually be ready.” He leaned against the wall, pushing a stray hair back from his face. “Where are your shoes?”

Natasha shrugged elegantly. “Somewhere around here. I didn’t bother to find them.” She unfolded herself from the couch and stood up. “You’re here early.”

Bucky stepped into Natasha’s bedroom. “I wanted to make sure you were actually dressed, and not still working on a car.” His voice drifted out of Natasha’s room. “Found ‘em.” He reemerged from Natasha’s room, carrying a pair of delicate golden heels. Natasha took them from Bucky and slipped them on. “We might as well go now. Stark’s party started a half hour ago.”

Natasha sighed. “Alright.” She grabbed a golden clutch from the desk> “Let’s get this over with.” She plastered a pleasant smile onto her face. “Shall we, James?”

“Miss Romanov.” Bucky held his arm out to Natasha. Natasha took it, walking out to the car with Bucky.

~*~*~

Natasha followed Bucky out of the elevator and into Tony Stark’s penthouse apartment. The lights were low, casting the room into shadow. Sheets of red and black fabric hung from the ceiling, giving the room a mystical look. Fog drifted around their ankles.

Bucky led the way through the crowded room to the bar, where Tony Stark was lounging. He smiled as Bucky and Natasha approached.

“You must be Ms. Romanov. Bucky has told me nothing but good things about you.” Tony motioned at the bartender for a drink. “I’m glad he was able to convince you to come along tonight. Please, sit.”

Natasha sat gently on one of the barstools and ordered a drink from the bartender.

“How is my car doing?” Tony asked, taking a sip of his own drink.

Natasha smiled. “It’s in perfect condition. Actually, it’s just taking up space in my garage now, waiting for you to pick it up.”

“I’ll send someone to pick it up tomorrow.” Tony promised.

“Surely that’s not the only reason you insisted Bucky bring me to your party.” Natasha said, her brow wrinkling in confusion.

Tony shook his head. “I want to offer you a job. Bucky told me a bit about your past employment.” Natasha glanced over at Bucky, who grinned sheepishly. He caught sight of a friend in the crowd and disappeared with just a wave.

“I’m not in that line of work anymore, Mr. Stark.” Natasha ground out, trying to keep a pleasant smile on her face. “So if that was what you wanted me to do, you’re out of luck.”

“No.” Tony shook his head emphatically. “At least, not if you don’t want it. We have openings in security and R&D. If you’re interested, I’ll have Pepper set up a meeting with you. We’d love to have someone with your talents at SI.”

Natasha shook her head. “Thank you, Mr. Stark, but I’m perfectly happy where I am.”

Tony shrugged, finishing his drink in one swallow. “Well,” He handed Natasha a card. “I still think you should consider it. At least go talk to Pepper.” He stood up. “Enjoy the party, Miss Romanov.”

Natasha took a sip of her drink, watching the people move about the room. Here and there, she saw a familiar face, but they vanished quickly into the crowd. Natasha sighed, fighting the urge to pull her hair back into a sloppy ponytail.

A man in a dark suit stepped up to the bar next to Natasha and ordered a root beer. Natasha glanced at him disinterestedly. She swirled her drink around in her glass, looking down at the stainless steel bar.

“Hi.” The man sat down on the bar stool next to Natasha. “Are you enjoying the p-” He chuckled. “Natasha?”

“Clint?” Natasha blinked in surprise as she set her drink down on the bar. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Clint replied. “I didn’t exactly think this was your scene.”

Natasha shook her head. “It’s not. My friend James dragged me along to meet Mr. Stark.” She chuckled quietly. “I’ve been counting down the minutes until I can leave without being rude.”

Clint nodded. “I understand the feeling. There are places I’d rather be tonight, but I have to make an appearance. I work for Stark Industries.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow elegantly. “Really? I know you said you worked security, but I didn’t really picture you working for a corporation like this. I didn’t even know Stark would do summer only jobs.”

“My friend Carol pulled some strings. She’s the assistant head of security. Ex-air force and doesn’t take no for an answer. I’ll introduce you if I see her around.” Clint took a sip of his drink. “Do you wanna dance?” Clint asked careful, cultured accent slipped, revealing a faint New York accent.

Natasha nodded. She set her empty glass down on the bar and let Clint lead her out onto the dance floor. They danced for a while, swaying back and forth in the swirling crowds. Eventually, Clint and Natasha made their way back towards the bar. A woman with shoulder length blonde hair was standing at the bar chatting with Bucky. Clint smiled. The blonde grinned back and waved Clint over. Clint took hold of Natasha’s hand and pulled her over to the woman.

“Natasha, this is Carol.” Clint gestured at the blonde woman, who set down her glass of scotch and shook Natasha’s hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Natasha. Clint has told me a lot about you.” Carol chuckled. “Although, looking at you, I find it hard to believe that you’re a ‘miracle’ mechanic. You fixed Clint’s truck though, so you must be quite special. That thing is a piece of shit.”

Natasha laughed. “That’s exactly what I said.”

Bucky stepped around the two women to stand next to Clint. He offered Clint a hand to shake. “Clint, right?” Clint nodded and shook Bucky’s hand. “I’m James. Can I buy you a drink?”

Clint shook his head. “No thanks. I don’t drink.”

Bucky shrugged and leaned against the bar. “Suit yourself.” He smiled warmly. “It’s nice to see Natasha with someone.”

Clint shook his head again, the tips of his ears turning pink. “It’s not like that. She just fixed my truck.”

Bucky smiled. “Still, she seems happy.” He spotted someone across the room and waved. “I have to go speak with someone about some business. Excuse me.”

~*~*~

“Have you seen Clint shoot archery yet?” Carol asked. She took a sip of her drink, watching Natasha.

“Seen him shoot? No. All I did was fix his truck.”

“Oh.” Carol frowned. “The way he talked, I assumed you two were going out. But that’s Clint for you. He’s absolutely hopeless in the romance department.” Carol finished her drink and set it down on the bar, where it was immediately refilled. “He’s an Olympic archer. Works private security during the off season. James was helping me set him up with someone, but she never showed up.”

“Evidently James isn’t the only one who likes to set his friends up with people.” Natasha chuckled. “You know, James has mentioned you quite a few times. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“I’ve heard a bit about you, too. James said he’s been trying to convince you to work for Stark for years. Now that I’ve met you, I agree. You’d be a great fit at SI.”

Natasha shook her head in exasperation. “I’ll give you the same answer I gave Stark earlier; I’m not in that line of work anymore. I had my fill in Russia.”

“Russia?”

“Yes. I’m from Russia.” Natasha kept her voice perfectly level. “I was the head of security for a major company there for four years.”

“Why’d you leave?” Carol asked curiously.

“I was tired of doing other people’s dirty work.” Natasha twisted the ring on her index finger around. “I’ve been running my own auto shop here since.”

Clint walked over and put a hand on Natasha’s arm. “Carol, stop grilling Natasha. Her past isn’t a book for you to read, no matter how curious you are.” He turned to Natasha. “I’m sorry for my friend. She can be a bit overly inquisitive.” He glanced around. “You know, I think we could leave now.” He flushed. “Not that we have to leave together.”

Natasha smiled. “There’s a twenty-four hour diner just down the street. Why don’t we grab a cup of coffee?”

“That sounds good.”

Natasha reached out and took Clint’s arm. They slipped through the crowd and out the door. Clint laughed.

“God, I haven’t done anything like that in years.” Clint ran his fingers through his gelled hair, making it stand up in cute peaks. “I was a bit of a firecracker when I was younger, but after I started at SI, I...stopped.” He laughed again. “I’d forgotten how exhilarating it is.”

Natasha laughed lightly and pulled off her shoes. She dangled them from her fingers, padding along in her bare feet. “Honestly, I’ve never done that before. When I worked security in Russia, I was always the first person to arrive and the last to leave. I haven’t been to a fancy party like this since I came here.”

“You’re Russian?” Clint sounded surprised. “I had no idea.”

Natasha shrugged. “I’ve been living in New York for close to seven years now. People weren’t too fond of my accent, so I got rid of it.” She chuckled. “I never quite managed to figure out a New York accent though.” When she spoke, she let her Russian accent slip through.

“Iowa.”

“What?”

Clint grinned sheepishly. “I’m from Iowa.”

Natasha laughed. “You’re a long way from the farm now.” Clint pulled open the door to the diner. “How long have you been in New York?”

“Since I was sixteen.”

Natasha took a seat at an open booth. Clint sat down across from her, pulling off his suit jacket and loosening his tie. He ordered them both coffee and leaned back.

“Why don’t you get a new car?” Natasha asked curiously, tying her hair back in a messy ponytail.

“It was the first car I bought myself.” Clint ran his hands through his hair again. “It’s stupid, I know, but when I came to New York, I didn’t have very much money. It took me two years to save up enough money to buy that truck.” He shrugged. “Call it a reminder.”

“It’s sweet.” Natasha said. “Look, if you want, bring your truck by the shop before you leave for training. It might take me a while, but I think I can restore it.”

Clint’s face split into a grin. “Are you sure?”

Natasha nodded. “I like a challenge. Leave it at the shop before you leave for the Olympics and I’ll have it fixed by the time you get back.”

Clint frowned. “How did you know I shoot in the Olympics?”

“Carol told me.” Natasha replied.

“God damn it.” Clint ran his hand through his hair. “Sorry. Carol talks too much. I don’t tell people I shoot in the Olympics because I don’t want people to know. There’s this...look that people get when they know. Like I’m not an ordinary guy anymore.”

“In my opinion, you’re still just a guy with a really shitty car and a talent for terrible puns.”

~*~*~

Natasha stared out the window, watching the rain pour down. A cup of tea sat in front of her, growing cold. Streaks of grease ran along the backs of her hands. She tapped a pencil against her other hand, lost in thought.

“Natasha?”

Natasha looked up to see Clint standing by her table. She smiled. “You’re back? Carol said you wouldn’t be back for another week.”

“I caught an earlier flight. Never really been one for celebrating. At least not like my teammates do.” He gestured to the seat across from Natasha. “Is that seat taken?” Natasha shook her head. “I stopped by Rushman Auto Repairs, but it was closed. Did something happen?”

“No. Well, not exactly. Bucky and Steve convinced me to start doing a bit of consulting for Stark. Steve is Bucky’s boyfriend.” Clint flopped down in the booth across from Natasha. “I close up the shop a little early most nights now and do consultant work.” Natasha spun her pencil in her hand, glancing down at the stack of papers in front of her. “I saw your event.”

Clint grimaced and buried his face in his hands. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“Clint, you were really good.” Natasha smiled. After a moment, she leaned across the table and kissed Clint. “Really.” She sat back, two spots of color on her cheeks.

Clint grinned. “Well, sweetheart, I was wondering if you would do that.” He drawled.

Natasha laughed and smacked his hand. “That accent doesn’t work for you, country boy. And I’m not your sweetheart.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep my-”

Natasha cut him off. “You didn’t.” She threaded her fingers together. “I’m just...cautious. This relationship really hasn’t gone the normal route. We barely got to know each other before you left, and now…” Natasha shrugged. “How about dinner? Tomorrow, at the cafe on 46th street.”

Clint nodded. “I’d like that.”

~*~*~

Natasha bumped affectionately against Clint’s shoulder. He turned and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“How soon do you think we can slip out without being rude?” Clint asked, shifting uncomfortably in his fitted tuxedo jacket.

Natasha chuckled. “Clint, we can’t leave our own wedding early.”

“We’re not. We’re leaving the reception early.”

Natasha shook her head and pressed a kiss to Clint’s lips. “Come on.” She took his hand and led him towards the dance floor.  

 

 


End file.
